Monday, March 30, 2015

A former Maplewood, New Jersey, resident and New Jersey Deputy Attorney General who represented the state's child protection agency, the Division of Youth and Family Services, Deborah's first romantic suspense was published in August of 2009. Deborah has been writing for twenty plus years, but only after leaving the AG's office to write full time did her writing career begin in earnest. She now divides her time between Manhattan and Hudson, New York, where she and her husband have a farm. When she's not writing and submitting, she is taking the art classes that she promised herself before retiring and visiting her three children. Despite "retirement," Deborah continues to work as an attorney in Columbia County, NY, representing children.

I always wondered how I would deal with being trapped in a
small space or held prisoner. The part that worried me the most, strange as it
might seem, was what I do to pass the time--with nothing to look at, nothing to
read.

If you’re stuck somewhere but can control your environment
you’ve brought a book. If you’ve got your phone you can check out Facebook and
read your emails.If all else fails, you
can find some paper in your purse and write a paragraph for the book you’re
working on or even compose the first scene of a new one.If nothing else, there’s always a grocery or
errand list that can be composed.But
what if you couldn’t do any of those things?What if you were trapped with no outside stimulation? And you’re not
allowed to move?

A number of years ago I had an MRI.It was long enough ago that it was in an enclosed
tube with a small opening where you slid in.That MRI gave me the opportunity to learn how I would handle such a
situation, deprived of all outside stimulation and unable (or in this case, not
allowed) to move.I never thought of
myself as claustrophobic, but as those of you who’ve had MRIs know—at least if
it was twenty-five years ago—it’s cramped and scary inside that tube. On the
bright side, it was an opportunity to see how I would deal with being forced to
remain motionless, sightless and alone with my thoughts for what seemed like an
endless stretch of time.

I’d read stories about prisoners who recited poetry.Unfortunately, I only know a few poems by
heart, all learned in grammar school, so as I lay there, in an increasing state
of panic, I nixed that idea.Reciting
Joyce Kilmer’s “Tree” wouldn’t work.

Instead, I tried doing something that I was confident about:
directions. I pictured myself driving to my aunt’s house in New Rochelle, New
York from my house in Maplewood, New Jersey and imagined the roads I would have
to take. I would go from the Parkway, to the George Washington Bridge and so
on.But I was still anxious. Recalling
directions was not going to be a good enough distraction.

That’s when I came up with recipes. I’m a cook.Maybe not a great cook, certainly not a chef,
but I know how to cook and enjoy it and like most mothers and wives, I’ve
cooked many meals and know the recipes for my favorites. Beginning with pasta
with broccoli, my family’s favorite, moving on to chicken piccata and risotto,
I went through my regular inventory, picturing myself mastering each meal.And the recipes almost saved me.But not quite.One of the technicians called out my name,
asking me how I was doing, and I was back in the reality of the dark
tunnel.

My recollection, it was about 25 years ago, is that I then
proceeded to think about song lyrics and got through a few Broadway tunes
before my name was called again, only this time, happily I was finished and on
my way out of the tube.

But back to that question, what would I do if?I write romances, books with happy endings,
but even in romances, it’s not a good story if there isn’t something for the
protagonist and the reader to worry about.Better yet, a challenge for our heroine to face, to defeat.Which
brings up that the question, what would my heroine do if I put her into a
situation where she’s trapped and unable to escape?Would she get hysterical and fall apart?Or is she brave and resourceful intent on
saving her dwindling resources for the next challenge?

Deborah Nolan is the author of SUDDENY LILY and CONFLICT OF
INTEREST published by Montlake and SECOND ACT FOR CARRIE ARMSTRONG published by
Desert Breeze Publishing.

A former Maplewood, New Jersey, resident and New Jersey Deputy Attorney General who represented the state's child protection agency, the Division of Youth and Family Services, Deborah's first romantic suspense was published in August of 2009. Deborah has been writing for twenty plus years, but only after leaving the AG's office to write full time did her writing career begin in earnest. She now divides her time between Manhattan and Hudson, New York, where she and her husband have a farm. When she's not writing and submitting, she is taking the art classes that she promised herself before retiring and visiting her three children. Despite "retirement," Deborah continues to work as an attorney in Columbia County, NY, representing children.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

I’m sitting in my new black-and-white bathing suit beside
the pool at The Intercontinental, San Juan, with five other similarly attired women.
We are talking about books. It isn’t just the palm trees, sunshine, the warmth
of the Caribbean sun (particularly after this winter), or the ocean breezes
making this lush setting a paradise; it is the company and conversation. I feel
alive, maybe even a bit smarter than I’ve felt in a long time. My daily reality
and shortcomings have been suspended and I am one of the six accomplished people
on this reunion.

Every year at this time I fly to Puerto Rico to spend
time at a beach resort with my former college roommates. For at least a few
hours before the wine starts pouring freely, I feel somehow a bit sharper than usual.
We each grab our current reading material, both in hard cover and e-book
formats, and gather around the pool, some in the sun and some under an umbrella
and tree. We talk, read, snack, and take dunks in the pool when we get too
warm.

The books we are reading are a big part of the
conversation, along with what movies and shows we’ve seen, what our kids are
doing, and some memories of the past. Even
when the subject of the books changes, someone will always bring it back up,
whether because she has also read that book or has just seen someone else walk
by carrying a book with a familiar title. The hot books of the year are in
everyone’s hands and it’s sometimes funny to see someone reading WILD, when
that was so two years ago. I was more current, since I had just finished ALL
THE LIGHT YOU CANNOT SEE, and was starting THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN. I wanted to
know what everyone else was reading as they lay on the chaises on the blue-and-white
striped towels handed out along with a color-coded arm band to provide proof that
we are paying guests.

I also wanted recommendations as to what book I should
read next. One person was reading REDEPLOYMENT and suggested THE MUSEUM OF
EXTRAORDINARY THINGS. Another mentioned AMHERST
as well as BLOOD FEUD. Several highly
recommended THE INTERESTINGS, especially since it struck a chord with some of
the women. I also heard good things about KILL CHAIN, LOVING FRANK, HUSH, and THE
THING AROUND YOUR NECK. I have a lot of reading ahead of me.

A few of the people who attended the reunion have been
doing so for as long as fifteen years, some more sporadically. Depending on who
attends, the sleeping arrangements can get interesting. One year I met a woman
just as I was assigned to share a king-sized bed with her. Luckily, it all
worked out, and we didn’t even wake each other up on our numerous nocturnal
trips to the bathroom.

While there are several things to do in the
surrounding area, we rarely do any of them, basically because we’ve been there,
done that. The goals of the weekend might be different for each of us, some
love the sun bathing, some the relaxing getaway from everyday life and the time
to snooze and read, but talking to old friends is the part of the weekend that
makes the memories. We make some new friends, too, as friends of friends are
invited, and I discovered some people sitting near us who know one of my oldest
friends from high school. We first met the woman last year because she was
attracted by our poolside canasta playing and mah jongg games.

For a few moments every year a few of us head to the
beach, often to take long walks, although not this year, as I had sprained my
ankle on some ice a few weeks earlier. But the waves are wonderful to play in,
even when they knock me down and my roommate from forty-five years ago has to
pull me up. The bonus was that the jewelry lady who stands near the entryway
had something I wanted on her table. The trinkets she sells are inexpensive but
some look surprisingly good. I bought a nice necklace for only twenty dollars. I
consider it a bargain, but for some reason my husband thinks it cost a lot
more, because he adds in the cost of the trip.

This year we were only six people so it was much
easier than in the past for us to squeeze into a taxi when we needed to go to a
terrific tapas restaurant across from a lively casino where some of us even
made a little money.

In recent years the trip has become a memorial to a
woman who came every year. She and I went all through school together from elementary
school through college. Oddly, her birthday and the anniversary of the day she
died are both during the yearly trip to Puerto Rico weekend, and we always remember
her and miss her.

I’m only home a day and glad to get back to my normal,
if somewhat mundane, life. But our trip organizer is already encouraging us to
make reservations for next year. I probably should—I know I can’t wait to go.

I enjoy solving puzzles as well as creating them as I do in my mystery novels. I raise Seeing Eye puppies and am currently raising our 13th puppy, a yellow Lab named Holliday. Visit my website: www.joaniascher.com

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

There is more to the season than cleaning cobwebs from corners, although that
is an excellent metaphor for what many of us are doing with regard to our
personal and professional time at this time of year.When my family lived in Maine, Spring weather arrived several weeks later
than the rest of the country. As evidenced by this year’s snow fall on the
‘technical’ first day of Spring, the state of Maine, most northerly of the lower
48, has a long winter. Once in a while, that long winter can be from first snow
in October to first thaw in April.

My home town under snow, a typical Maine winter.

In one such year, the house was closed up with snow covering the ground floor
windows. The front path was dug out to the road and the snow piled six feet high
on both sides. My elder brother used the surplus to build an igloo over the
slope leading down to the sidewalk. He dug openings at the top and
at the bottom where it opened to the road.At that time of year, there was no real danger of any child ending up under
the wheels of a passing car on Lincoln Street, but the thrill of shooting
through the igloo and onto the icy road kept us outdoors and sledding for weeks.
Since I was never keen on snow, this was a boon to my mother who preferred all play to be restricted to the outside, no matter what the weather.This particular winter, the back parlor had been used earlier for our
Christmas celebrations. The wood-burning kitchen stove was used to heat the
upstairs bedrooms through ducts into open grills in the floor. Ducts were
closed to the back parlor to keep other rooms warmer. Spring cleaning meant that all the windows in the house could be opened as
soon as the patches of grass were at least eight inches wide and more numerous
than the piles of snow. Several doors to rooms on the ground floor had not been
open since the first signs of winter and others had been closed since Christmas.
My mother began her cleaning and airing out from the attic. The kitchen was
the center of family life and had already been cleaned but it was mid-April
before she reached the back parlor. Our Christmas tree stood in the corner, all
ornaments and lights intact, four months to the day after it had been decorated.
Under the tree, instead of presents, was a thick pile of reddish brown
needles.

Leigh is the author of Wait a Lonely Lifetime, Salsa Dancing with Pterodactyls, the serial novel by installment, Nights Before and Pavane for Miss Marcher, both set in her native Maine. Leigh also writes Welsh Medieval Romance under the pen name, Lily Dewaruile.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Springtime
is a time of renewal and change. If you’ve been thinking about doing something

different, maybe this is the time to start.

Maybe
your job is at a dead end. Maybe you’d like to play a musical instrument or
take art lessons. Maybe you have an idea for a book or a song. Whatever it is
that you’d like to do, sometimes taking the first step is the hardest
especially when you are aware that time is not on your side.

But
don’t give up hope. I am living proof that it’s never too late to take on a
dream or even to reinvent your dreams!

Right now I call
myself an author, but that’s not how it always was. I wrote for years before I
saw the fruits of my works published. I started writing in the 1980’s, got a
few rejections, thought I was being silly to think I could get published, and
put the dream of publication back in the far corner of my life—but I never
stopped writing. If you’re a writer, you write. It’s that simple. I wrote,
played around with stories, and one day I realized I had quite a few
manuscripts in different stages of completion. One day, I told myself, I’ll do
something with all of them.

That day came
earlier than I anticipated. Before I was ready, I had to take a medical
retirement from teaching. Boredom immediately set in. One day I pulled out those
boxes of old manuscripts (I didn’t own a computer then) and the writing bug bit
me once again. I joined an RWA chapter, attended as many conferences and
workshops as possible, and I eventually had my dream come true.It was one day before my 58th
birthday that I received The Call.

Fifty-eight
years old might seem ancient to those who are younger, but I think age depends
on attitude. If you’re young enough to dream a dream, then you’re young enough
to try to discover it. If you’re willing to do the work learning how something
is done, then the world is open to you.

I will have my
seventh book published at the end of next month, and when it comes out I will
smile and pat myself on the back because I didn’t lie down and quit when I had
to find a new life. I’m enjoying my time in the publishing world, just as you
can enjoy your time doing whatever it is you might want to do.

Even if you're not a "spring chicken," your dream can still come true because it's never too late to start fresh.

Fran McNabb
taught high school English until she had to take an early medical retirement. Now she spends
her time writing, reading, and enjoying the time she and her husband spend on
the water. Her seventh book, SAVING THE CHILDREN, will be released on April 29.
Visit her atmcnabbf@bellsouth.net or at

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Today marks the wedding anniversary for one of my best friends. Not coincidentally, it also marks the beginning of my adventures in romance.

Sue was married on a Thursday, not a convenient day for my parents (who both taught school) or for me (still in school). We had to take half a day off to drive the four hours to where she lived (where we used to live) and where she was being married. As soon as the festivities were at an end, we drove the four hours home to attend classes the next day. Suffice to say, my parents were not pleased.

The fun came when, just before we were to leave, two of the groom's men (each individually) invited me to stay and go with them to a post-celebration celebration. I woulda if I coulda, but the horses under the hood were already champing. I offered my apologies and left, showing up bleary-eyed at classes the next day.

Because Sue lived within blocks of both my grandmothers, we visited near her often. Whenever I planned to be there, I alerted her and she alerted the two young men (again, each individually.) For a time I dated both, though only a few times a year. I liked them both, but one ... oh my.

This isn't the place to detail how the relationship developed or how I lost him to another woman. I will only say that whenever I hear the old Association song, "Along Comes Mary," my associations are different from theirs. The point is, I fell in love. It was young and it was exciting and beautiful and intense--and real. Despite the fact I was little more than a kid, I've now been married long enough to know that I know what love is. I knew it then, too.

The newest man in my life is handsome Oliver Wright, born Thursday morning. He's a romantic hero in the making, and I confess I am smitten.

Winning at love is electrifying, ecstatic, elevating. Losing is the pits. Learning from both is what eventually led me to my lovely, lasting marriage and a beautiful family of my own. Although Sue's husband was military and mine a journalist, causing us both to live in varied places around the world, she and I are still friends, our homes hundreds of miles from where we grew up together and only eight miles apart.

Every March twenty-first, I think of her wedding and all that came after. The beginning of her marriage marked the start of my romantic life and taught me valuable lessons in what it means to love.

Susan
Aylworth is the author of 13 published novels and has part in three
boxed sets, all 16 titles available now. Mother to seven, she
is "gramma" to 24. She lives in northern California with her
husband of 44 years and the two spoiled cats they serve and she loves hearing from readers @SusanAylworth, at www.susanaylworth.com, or susan.aylworth.author@gmail.com. You can also follow her on Pinterest and Instagram.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

As I believe I've mentioned, I'm in the business of helping characters live happily ever after.

But I've got to admit, some of my favorite stories – even my favorite love stories – don't always meet that criteria. Sometimes a tragic or poignant ending is just what's needed.

Below, you'll find some of my favorite stories – some on film, some in books -- that don't end with that traditional happily-ever-after. And although I won't go into great detail, since I'm going to be discussing endings, let me preface the rest of this blog entry with: SPOILER ALERT!!

Casablanca: There's a reason this is considered one of the greatest movies of all time. Take two star-crossed lovers, give them an unresolvable conflict – then manage to have them part and leave the audience feeling good about it. Every scene in this movie is fabulous, but that ending … Here's looking at you, kid.

The Great Gatsby: Oh, I loved this book. At first I didn't think I'd be able to relate to any of the characters, but when I discovered the lengths Gatsby went to for love, I was blown away. He created a complete, artificial persona, yet he was so much more real than the people around him. At the end, he's destroyed by his own idealistic vision of Daisy, but I'm still consoled by Nick's final words to his friend: “You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.”

Roman Holiday: When you start with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, it would be hard to go wrong. And the writers don't go wrong. They even have the guts to resist working out an unlikely Hollywood ending that would make it possible for the couple to be together. It's lump-in-the-throat time, but it's so rewarding.

Tucker: He loses the battle, but it's a triumph of the spirit when he invites the jurors out for a ride in those beautiful, non-existent cars.

Gone With the Wind: Readers and moviegoers may disagree on whether Scarlett could ever get Rhett back, but there's no denying this is one of the most unforgettable endings of all time!

How about you? Which tragic/tear-jerker endings stand out in your mind?

Sierra Donovan is a wife, a mother of two and a writer, though not always in that order. Her greatest joy is helping people find true love on the printed page. She believes in classic movies, Christmas, happy endings, and the healing power of chocolate.
Sierra's first novel, LOVE ON THE AIR, was a Holt Medallion finalist. Her Kensington debut, NO CHRISTMAS LIKE THE PRESENT, won the Golden Quill for Sweet Traditional Romance.
Her series of Evergreen Lane novels begins with DO YOU BELIEVE IN SANTA?, a finalist for the SnowGlobe Award. The series continues with her latest romance, WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Every spring, I wind up explaining that, since my husband's family is Greek Orthodox, we celebrate Greek Easter. What are the differences?

It starts with the date. Often, Greek Easter falls on a different Sunday than the traditional Western Easter. There are three conditions to the Greek calendar when it comes to the celebration of Easter.

First, the Greek Orthodox Church follows the Gregorian calendar, not the Julian. Second, Easter must occur on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the official start of spring. Still following along? Yeah, I know. I'm dizzy, too. But hang on. The third condition is the easiest to explain and, therefore, my standard reply when asked. Easter must fall after Passover.

There are some benefits to the different date. When our Easter is celebrated after Western Easter, we get all our goodies for half-price. The downfall? Since my husband was born in April, there have been years when his birthday fell on Greek Easter. (During those years, he hijacks my birthday in August.)

What are the traditions of Greek Easter? Glad you asked. Most are similar to Western traditions. In the days before, we color eggs, though ours are dyed red. We bake a sweet egg bread called "tsoureki" (tsoo-RECK-ee).

Like celebrants of Western Easter, our kids find baskets full of goodies in the morning, we gather together with family, and share a good meal. We drink ouzo (a strong licorice-flavored liqueur).

After dinner is the highlight of the celebration for my family. The dyed eggs are brought to the table, and each person chooses one for the "tsougrisma" (tsoo-GREES-ma). One by one, family members challenge each other to an egg-tapping contest. One person chooses an opponent. The challenger proclaims, "Christos Anesti" (CREE-stose Ah-NES-tee). The opponent replies, "Alithos Anesti" (Ah-lee-THOSE Ah-NES-tee). The two then tap their eggs against each other--pointed end to rounded end--in the hope of cracking the other's egg while leaving his/her egg unblemished. The game continues around the table until only one person has an uncracked side of their egg. That person is declared the winner and is said to have good luck all year.

This year, our Easter will fall on April 12, the week after Western Easter (and two weeks before my husband's birthday. Whew!)

Whatever spring holiday you celebrate in April, may you be surrounded by love, joy, and good fortune.

Gina Ardito is the award-winning international author of more
than twenty romances, a legendary singer in confined spaces (her car, the
shower, her office cubicle), and a killer of houseplants.​ She
hosts fun, informative workshops for writers around the country. In 2012, Gina
was named a Woman of Outstanding Leadership by the International Women’s
Leadership Association, but to her friends, she’s still just a shenanigator. A
native of Long Island, New York, she lives with her husband, two children, a
bionic dog, and their two cat overlords. For more info on Gina and her books,
you can visit her website at ginaardito.com, follow Gina on Facebook
at https://www.facebook.com/GinaArditoAuthor, on Twitter at https://twitter.com/GinaArdito or
sign up for the monthly newsletter she shares with her ScribBLING Diva pals
at http://scribblingdivas.com/

Saturday, March 14, 2015

By the time this is posted, my sixth grandchild should be born. My daughter is due March 4 and has had two previous C-sections. The doctors are trying to accommodate her wish for a VBAC, but they won’t let her go much beyond her due date since the chances of complications increase dramatically as the baby gets larger.

At the time I’m writing this in late February, the child is still in utero, though we know that he is a boy, the third boy they will have. His two older brothers will be a hard act to follow. His three-and-a-half-year-old oldest brother has already taught himself to read, write, and do simple arithmetic. His other older brother is a physical whirlwind who loves music and climbing on everything possible.

But like his brothers, he starts off life with many advantages. The boys are blessed with highly intelligent, spiritual, and academically-oriented parents who’ve read to them almost from the day they came home, who provide a variety of enriching toys and spend a great deal of time interacting with them and guiding them.

This has made me think about how many children are born into this world without the advantages those children enjoy. For too many around the world, their parents can’t even meet their basic needs for food, shelter, and clean water. Enrichment of any sort is far beyond their grasp. Survival is the only battle they can fight.

And even where basic survival isn’t necessarily a battle, many families are still too marginal either economically or culturally to be able to do any more than meet basic needs. Their own lack of education and cultural development hinders many more from even knowing what they could be doing to improve their children’s chances of success in life.

It’s a huge, massive problem and one I can’t solve, though I try to do what I can to support literacy programs and basic outreaches to the poor and hungry. Plus I do what I can to support my own children in their efforts to raise theirs. That’s why when you’re reading this I’ll be in Indiana where I hope to be cuddling a brand-new grandson, plus reading to and playing with his older brothers.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Okay, inquiring minds want to know…why a writer? Certainly
not for the fame and fortune…or maybe it is.

I’m a writer because I’ve always
liked to play make believe. Even as a little girl every one of my dolls and
stuffed animals had a back story! I know a lot of writers when asked this
question answer with something along the lines of; “I can’t imagine myself not
writing.” For me it is the same. Except when I’m not writing I use my
creativity in other outlets such as cooking and redecorating my home.

When did you first put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard)
to create your classic and cozy characters?

I started writing my first novel in
1983 on a typewriter I’d purchased several years before at a local office
supply store. I had lots of paper and those little jars of Whiteout on my desk.
I’m so glad we get to use laptops now!!

Do you have a set writing schedule?

I prefer to write in the
morning hours. I like to do my new scenes then and later in the day I edit or
handle the business portion of my career.

Is there a certain routine, food/drink, or location that
summons forth the muses for you?

I wish I could say that I start my day with an
inspirational walk on the beach…unfortunately because I live inland in the
Northeast there is no beach. I’m finding that doing Yoga has helped calm my
thoughts and open my mind to new ideas and creativity. And drinking a glass of
wine is always good for awakening my muse! But when I’m stuck on a scene I find
that sorting through paperwork or reorganizing my office space usually helps to
free my thoughts.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I love
spending time with my grandchildren and I will confess that I’m a bit hooked on
the slot games on my new Kindle! I love to watch the cooking networks and then
try to recreate the recipes in my own kitchen.

I imagine you’ve been reading all of your life (all great
writers have.) What was your favorite
book as a child?

I loved my Mary Poppins book and the T’was the Night Before
Christmas book with the Grandma Moses illustrations.

Do you re-read books?

I don’t normally re-read fictions books. One of my favorite reads is
actually a non-fiction booked called Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil.
I’ve re-read this book several times. I so enjoy the depiction of the infamous
Savanah murder because it reads like a good old-fashioned suspense novel.

But there’s more to life than reading, writing (and
arithmetic)…what is your most memorable adventure in your life?

I would have to
say when I went snorkeling off the coast of Key West! This was no easy feat
considering that I don’t know how to swim and I thought we’d be in shallow
water. Imagine my surprise when the captain of the boat took us out to a reef
and I plunged into the warm blue water only to find myself dangling off the
deep end with nothing more than a skimpy life vest and a blue water noodle to
keep me afloat. Realizing my feet did not touch the soil was horrifying! But I
can honestly say that I was brave enough to do something so far out of my
comfort zone and I’m proud that I did it. Would I do it again? No way!

If you were on American Idol, what song would you sing to
WOW! the judges?

“Stand By Your Man.”

Catch more of Tracey Lyons the last Thursday of every month
here on the Classic and Cozy Blog.

My writing is a natural extension of my love of reading. From the day in first grade when I realized t-h-e was the word "the," I've been reading everything I can put my hands on. As a financial planner, I'm as at-home writing retirement and tax-planning advice as I am writing romance novels. But novels are a lot more fun.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Watched over by the famous Library Lions, the main branch of the NYC library system has been one of my favorite spots for years. I've been there more times than I can count. As a college student, back in the days of card catalogues, I spent hours in the general research room.

Every trip back to NY brings me to the library. The surroundings, the tourists, and the lions are familiar, but each experience is different. I never go in with any specific exhibit in mind, but there is always something that piques my interest.

Last week I discovered the Spellbound exhibit. Eight cool items celebrated the art of spelling the English language. Small but informative, I loved this exhibit - especially the explanation of why we don't spell colour like our English cousins. It was part of a movement to get American children to appreciate American children's books.

A family edition of Noah Webster’s An American Dictionary of the English Language from 1841, which includes annotations by Webster including the definition for the adverb "wordily;”A 1906 menu from the Thirteen Club, which represented the English spelling reform movement. Dr. Seuss’s Spelling Bees: The Oldest and Newest Rage, published during his time as a commercial illustrator;The Freedman's Spelling Book, which was modeled after antebellum primers, contains material specifically for former slaves;An 1821 textbook that promises to lead children “gradually from spelling to reading in a very short time;”The Spelling Match Song: I Couldn’t Spell That Word Because I Love You!, a vaudeville song sheet from the turn of the 19th Century;A set of ivory spelling disks, similar to those used by the son of Frankenstein author Mary Shelley;A Is For Apple Pie, a Victorian picture book about the alphabet features amusing and animated depictions of Victorian children at play—all of them in quest of the titular “apple pie.”

You'll never guess who I met outside the library. Flat Stanley was having his picture taken. It was a little too windy for Stanley so I offered to help. Stanley and I took a picture by the Library Lions. The lady taking the photo will send it to her 7 year old niece in California.

Next time you're in the neighborhood stop by. You never know who you'll meet or what you'll discover.Stephen A. Schwarzman BuildingFifth Avenue at 42nd StreetNew York, NY, 10018

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Softly,
snow floats to the ever-whitening ground. All of nature seems to
pause as if to respect the peacefulness. Children and adults alike
press their glowing faces to the cold panes of glass in great
anticipation.

Well…maybe
not. When Oklahoma recently had another round of snow, I was jolted
to reality as I recognized a lot of people aren’t fond of the fluffy white
stuff. Around here, there is the frantic run to the grocery store at the
first mention of it. Fretting and worrying seem to be natural
responses to the news. A few inches cause school and church
closings. Complaints about bad roads and freezing weather are on
almost everyone’s lips.

Then,
I think about those hardy New Englanders under feet of snow. They
must certainly be tired of the man-made mountains and frigid temperatures. How
they survive is beyond me. My hat’s off to them—they might need it
anyway.

I
have the feeling I’m in a minority when it comes to liking winter weather. I
adore sitting at my kitchen table with my steaming cup of coffee and watching
the flakes drifting toward earth from the gray sky. I think it’s a
lovely sight. It’s a reminder to slow down and delight in the beauty
around me. When it melts a day or two later, the roads are clear and
it’s only a memory.

Sometimes
it feels as if we’re stuck in a repeating pattern of drudgery, but things do
change. It’s the way of life. So, if you’re one of those
who is tired of the dreary days of bone chilling weather or if you have a
battered, worn soul—just remember—winter never lasts forever.

Sandra
Wilkins is busy writing another series while home educating her two
daughters. Ada’s Heart, Rose’s Hope and Gwen’s Honor are
her first three published wholesome historical romances. Go to www.sandrawilkins.com to find out more about her and
her books.

...writes what she knows--small towns (influenced by her childhood growing up in Chagrin Falls, Ohio) and beach settings (a result of 28 years as a navy spouse, always living within a flip-flip's throw of the ocean.) Thanks to a youth spent reading Nancy Drew and an adulthood devouring the words of Janet Evanovich, Lillian Jackson Braun and Mary Daheim, she can now write about amateur sleuths, wacky escapades and dead bodies with a modicum of authority. Her first cozy mystery, The Blond Leading the Blond, was released by Avalon Books in hardcover. An ebook version should be available in early 2012. You can learn more about Jayne by visiting her website, http://www.jayneormerod.com/

Monday, March 9, 2015

As snow still covers the ground in my home
in southeastern Virginia (where “normal” temps are in the high 50s this time of
year—today we’re expected to top out at 29!) it seems natural for my thoughts
to turn to spring. More specifically,
spring activities, such as gardening. So
I thought I’d dig out and dust off an article I wrote almost 10 years ago, but
is still relevant today, and gives me hope that spring will be here soon!

YARD OF THE
MONTH

My first gardening catalog came addressed to “Robert S. Jones or Current Resident." That’s me.
Current resident. We’d just made
our fourth move in two years in conjunction with my husband’s career in the US
Navy. He had orders for twenty-four
months. Why, that’s long enough to plant
perennials, I thought!

I showed a great deal of
restraint when I limited myself to a $500 order from that gardening catalog. A rainbow of reds, whites, blues, pinks and
yellows. A selection of varying heights
and curious textures. My home would
stand out from the others in this new, cookie-cutter neighborhood. Okay, so I would eat nothing by macaroni and
cheese for two months, but with the Yard of the Month awarded by my
neighborhood association came a $50 gift certificate to the garden center, so
it would balance the financial scales a bit.
And based on the glossy catalog pictures of what my gardens would look
like, I was a sure winner.

One sunny day in early April a small box arrived. A very small box filled with more than a
hundred two-inch plants that looked like they should be on life support. But hope springs eternal, and I had faith
these would grow quickly to look like the advertisement in no time.

The instructions said I should
plant the garden as soon as possible.
Hmmm. I hadn’t actually thought
about that part of it. I’d ordered
enough flora to fill three very large areas, all of which were currently
sprouting bright green weeds. As any
good navy wife would do, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

First I outlined the beds with
edging bricks, hauled in station-wagon loads of 50 per day. That took two weeks. Next step was to loosen the top four inches
of soil. After three days of
back-breaking labor, I broke down and rented a tiller. Then the dump truck deposited a load of topsoil in
the middle of the driveway when I wasn’t looking. I had to borrow my neighbor’s
car to run to the hardware store to purchase a wheelbarrow and move the dirt
before I could even get my car out of the garage. The important lesson here was exactly how
much dirt fit into a dump truck, most of which my neighbor ended up using to
fill in his swimming pool. Thinking I’d learned
my lesson on the soil, I opted for hauling in mulch bag by bag by bag by
bag. One-hundred and seventy-two, if
memory serves.

It took over a month, but I
celebrated the day I popped the teeny plants into their tiny holes, being careful to adhere to the paint-by-number instructions in order to achieve the same stunning effect shown in their catalog. Little
tiny specks of plants spaced twelve to eighteen inches apart. It looked like a barren wasteland. I wanted to cry. It looked pathetic. All that work…. My back ached, my legs ached, my hands ached. But most of all, my budget ached. I was in for over $1,500, once I figured in
the repair costs after I’d run over the tiller I’d parked behind my car. I reminded myself it would all be worth it
when my husband returned from deployment to find our yard looked like it should
be on the cover of Better Homes and
Gardens.

That was my very expensive
lesson in patience. Having been raised
in a well-established mill town, I’d taken flora planted by long-dead ancestors
for granted. I had no idea it took fifty
years for ivy to climb the brick exteriors, or forsythia bushes to grow as tall
as the houses. I expected instant
gratification in my gardens. Needless to
say, my sparse plantings did not earn me Yard of the Month, let alone even a "wow" from my husband when he returned home.

We moved nine times over the
next fourteen years. I never again made
the mistake of undertaking significant landscaping projects I would never be
around long enough to enjoy, but at every place we lived I left some small
patch of perennials or a few puny peonies for a future nomadic tenant to enjoy.

We found ourselves back in the area
of our first home and detoured down the street where I’d foolishly invested so
much time, energy and money. I cried
when I saw it. The big pink peony blooms
smiling up at the sunshine took my breath away.
Lush vinca had filled in enough to choke out all the weeks and make
annual mulching unnecessary (which had been my goal.) The gardenia bushes, which had started as
one-foot high twigs, now formed a tall, thick, fragrant hedge. But the thing that caught my eye was a sign
right smack dab in the middle of the beautiful red, white and blue field of perennials—Yard of the Month. That sign was more a testimony to the passage
of time than to my efforts, and certainly the current homeowners spent a lot of
energy and money maintaining it all through the years. But even though the sign read Yard of the
Month, I know what it really meant…Congratulations
Jayne Ormerod! You’re a Gardener with Vision!

...writes what she knows--small towns (influenced by her childhood growing up in Chagrin Falls, Ohio) and beach settings (a result of 28 years as a navy spouse, always living within a flip-flip's throw of the ocean.) Thanks to a youth spent reading Nancy Drew and an adulthood devouring the words of Janet Evanovich, Lillian Jackson Braun and Mary Daheim, she can now write about amateur sleuths, wacky escapades and dead bodies with a modicum of authority. Her first cozy mystery, The Blond Leading the Blond, was released by Avalon Books in hardcover. An ebook version should be available in early 2012. You can learn more about Jayne by visiting her website, http://www.jayneormerod.com/